


preload;afterload

by Incadence



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, M/M, doctor!Yoongi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-25 04:53:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21571096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Incadence/pseuds/Incadence
Summary: There’s something strangely intimate about this, Yoongi’s fingers fluttering over his skin, as he sticks the electrodes on gently, and he can’t help but notice the slight pinkness of Jimin's cheeks.
Relationships: Min Yoongi | Suga/Park Jimin
Comments: 3
Kudos: 26





	preload;afterload

**Author's Note:**

> um hi guys  
> I used to write fic like tHREE YEARS AGO, i dont think anyone will remember me ;u;  
> im not as active in the fandom anymore but the only reason i am writing this fic is it is based on another fic i wrote which i kind of hate. Another hospital yoonmin AU.  
> I'm actually studying science right now, and in that fic NOTHING MADE SENSE.  
> so here i am, old yoonmin trash, back with another hospital au.  
> hopefully over 20k!!! long fic yay

Yoongi remembers first meeting Jimin.

It’s now just a vague memory, blurred by childhood, hazy in a time almost lost.

Snow fall; the silence of winter. A Korea immersed in white. And it’s then Yoongi sees him. A brilliant red scarf, bright like a newly bloomed rose. And there he was. While other children were running, loud laughter and heavy footsteps against the snow, Jiimin was quiet, soft, eyes downcast.

Yoongi stops. The children run past him. He stares.

_Pretty._

Is the first thing Yoongi thinks. He was just a child then, not yet with a firm grasp on words, but that is the word that lingers. It wasn't the pretty that other boys used to describe the girls in his class, with their cute bows, and shiny hair. He never really saw them as pretty, never really understanding what it really meant. But when he looks at that small boy, with amber hair peppered with tiny snowflakes, with lips redder than his scarf, and eyes, alert and gentle, Yoongi thinks he understands.

That boy was pretty.

The boy catches him looking. He gives a shy smile. But he doesn’t join the other children in his game, he watches with eager eyes.

Yoongi was never one to approach the other kids first. But when the boy doesn’t move, Yoongi walks up to him, and holds out a hand.

“I’m Yoongi,” he says, with exaggerated bravery. “What’s your name?”

His eyelashes flutter, the gentle beat of butterfly wings stretching in spring.

“I’m Jimin.”

-

Now it was just a lost memory, one Yoongi kept close for years, though like all childhood memories, you eventually have to let them go. Those careless childhood years, were sweet, with a fragile friendship that withstands time. He remembers that childlike adoration and wonder, that joy, before life likes to tear it apart. But people change, places grow, nothing is really stagnant.

And soon the two boys are separated. Yoongi just barely remembers crying, of promising to stay in touch, of a warm hug. He remembers how soft and small Jimin’s hands had felt in his, how sweet he smelled. How as the seasons changed, slowly Yoongi forgot more and more, of that small child, with small hands and small smiles.

Friends come and go. And so did Jimin.

Eventually as Yoongi grew up, Jimin was just a lost name, a face barely remembered.

That it until that afternoon.

Yoongi is sitting at his desk. And it was just another patient, another name, another huge array of attached documents. Just statistics, analysis, x-rays, and a long list of medications. The afternoon was a lazy one. Yoongi was tired, as usual, and the buzzing of the patients seemed louder than usual.The hospital was never really quiet, always alive, machines blinking, tubes winding around, footsteps reverberating through the pristine whiteness of the halls. A constant tedium of noise, and a never-ending influx of appointments.

He wants to sleep.

Sometimes he wonders if it had been worth it. Doing years of study, of late nights, to be stuck with a tiredness he could never cure, even after university. The exhaustion had never seemed to go away, no matter how much he slept. A shadow that only dimmed or darkened, but never really would leave him. It haunts him in dark circles under his eyes, and a thick fog that settled on his shoulders day by day.

“Your 3:00 pm appointment is here,” and it makes Yoongi snap out of his haze.

“Let them in, I’m ready.” Yoongi replies, and stretches before making his way to the clinic door.

It opens.

Then, there he was again.

_Pretty._

Jimin. Amber hair, a soft smile, a gentle fragility.

Just like that, all the memories, almost forgotten, discarded, that mess of white noise has clarity again. The memories of a sweet innocent friendship, what spring had smelled like that year, of resounding laughter. Of a joy that Yoongi has long lost.

Jimin’s eyes meet his, and it’s a conflicting look. He looks away, and Yoongi is briefly startled by the coldness of it.

“Min Yoongi!” The moment is broken by a hearty, almost forced laugh. “How you have grown!”

Yoongi blinks, and turns to the older lady standing by Jimin’s side, gripping him hard. Jimin winces.

“Ms Park?” Yoongi says, surprised. She had aged quite a bit, stress etching itself harshly into her face, hair a mousy grey. But it was still her all the same, the one that treated Jimin and Yoongi to sweet snacks, and expensive gifts. She had always smelled like thick, floral perfume, and years later, that scent still stayed, filling the clinic with the smell of artificial roses.

“It’s good to see you,” she gushes, enveloping him in a hug. Yoongi doesn’t think he’s supposed to hug patients but he does so anyways, out of politeness. “Aren’t you happy to see him, Jimin? It’s been a long time.”

Jimin doesn’t look too happy. He seems a shadow of the boy that Yoongi had been friends with as a child. Downcast and pale, he gives a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, hi Yoongi.”

“It’s nice to see you again, Jimin,” Yoongi replies out of courtesy, and can’t help but feel the awkwardness settling in the room. And so many unanswered questions linger. Why did they come now? Was Ms Park sick?

Yoongi works at a private hospital, in a specialist clinic. They were always booked out most of the time and very pricey, so they can’t be here for something as simple as rekindling a childhood friendship.

“So, what brings you here today?” Yoongi asks, turning his attention to the computer. It answers his question before Ms Park can. Yoongi’s breath catches in his throat, quiet enough for none of them to hear. The graphs do not lie. The X-ray’s speak volumes.

A heart that beats wrong.

“It’s Jimin,” Ms Park replies, “We’ve flown down here because we've heard your cardiology experience is really amazing, and that this private clinic has done great work. Your mother recommended you after hearing about Jimin. ” She turns to Jimin and squeezes his hand. “At least, you guys were once friends, so maybe Jimin will feel more comfortable with you. He’s had a hard time, poor thing.” Jimin doesn’t look comfortable though, his lips pressed into a sharp line. _And we were barely even friends. We were just children._ Yoongi thinks to himself, but he just smiles at her.

“You probably were not unaware, but Jimin has had this condition his whole life, and we really want to prepare him for surgery soon.” And it makes sense now. How Ms Park had always hovered over him, how Mr Park was never home, always working and working. How Jimin always seemed paler than the other children. How he was never allowed to play.

“Pulmonary stenosis? ” Yoongi asks, clicking at the screen, and Ms Park nods. A congenital birth problem, it wasn’t something you could just fix overnight. Just a heart that beats wrong, one that stutters, and oxygen that never really ever seems to be enough for the body. Yoongi feels a pang of sympathy for Jimin, a lifetime ruled by this defect. Jimin’s X-ray glares bright and black from the screen and Yoongi stares at it. It wasn’t a pretty sight, already the right side was more enlarged than normal, and Yoongi can hear the stuttered breaths of Jimin, who doesn’t say a word.

When he turns to Ms Park, her eyes are glistening with barely restrained tears. “We really want him to have surgery, he had one when he was younger and he seemed better, but then he got worse again and -” She wipes her tears with a tissue she takes out of her bag.

“Mum…” Jimin sighs, annoyance similar to an embarrassed teenager.

Yoongi nods, “ A recurrence of pulmonary stenosis does happen, and usually we would ideally have another surgery for him. Though that would need preparation, to make sure he is healthy enough for it. Though, I’ll need to do a couple more tests to see what would be suitable for him.”

He feels Jimin watching him, dark eyes burning soft against his skin. Yoongi can’t help but stare back and it's like he’s scrutinizing Yoongi. Yoongi doesn’t want to look away. It’s familiar, but also strangely different. The childhood innocence has almost disappeared, and now there’s something alluring about the way he’s looking at Yoongi. His expression is unreadable, but he gives a small smile when he catches Yoongi looking.

Yoongi quickly averts his gaze back to Ms Park, “Is there anything I can do?” She asks earnestly. Yoongi looks at the list of medications listed on the screen and then back at her again. “As long as you are following the medications closely, I’ll be able to prescribe some medication to help the blood flow, though right now, we would have to focus on prevention methods to ensure that there is no heart failure, which would lead to many complications.” He squints at the graph. “Though, I’m glad you have been referred, as his condition is quite severe, and I would advise us to try working towards preparing him for surgery. This could take many weeks or months. When was this ECG taken?”

“A month ago,” Ms Park replies.

“Okay,” Yoongi nods. “I’ll like to do another one to see the state of his heart rhythm, if that’s alright. I will bring him out to you, after he is finished.”

Ms Park nods, and clasps his hands. “Thank you so much Yoongi! And it’s really nice to see how you’ve grown. Your mum must be very proud.”

“Thank you, I'll let Jimin know when to book the next appointment.” Yoongi replies politely. She gives another smile and leaves the room.

Jimin gives a sigh of relief. “Sorry,” he gives Yoongi a smile. “She can be a bit much sometimes.”

Yoongi just shrugs. “My mum is the same honestly, they are probably talking to each other right now.”

Jimin smirks. “Your mum’s probably bragging about you. She always was flexing on my mum, it was always Yoongi this, Yoongi’s a doctor!” It’s been years and years. Yoongi wonders how Jimin remembers.

Yoongi rolls his eyes as he hands Jimin a hospital gown, and he goes behind the curtain to change. “Yeah, that's her."

“This is awkward isn’t it, though?” Jimin says emerging in the hospital gown. “I actually really didn’t want to come, it’s so embarrassing.”

“What’s so embarrassing about this?” Yoongi asks, as he prepares the electrodes, and Jimin rolls his eyes as he lies down on the bed.

“Dude, c’mon. An ECG is already pretty fucking embarrassing, but its my childhood friend who’s doing it. That’s even worse!” Yoongi only huffs a laugh at that. Jimin lets the robe slip to his waist casually like he’s done many times before. His skin is white and soft, and they tense, flushing a slight pink when Yoongi presses the electrodes on his skin. There’s something strangely intimate about this, Yoongi’s fingers fluttering over his skin, as he sticks the electrodes on gently, and he can’t help but notice the slight pinkness of Jimin's cheeks. Like this he seems fragile, like if Yoongi were to press too hard, it would break under his fingers.

“I’m a professional, don’t worry,” Yoongi winks. Jimin blushes harder.

The machine whirs as it records Jimin’s heartbeat. Yoongi watches it. The lines are beautiful in a way. Sharp lines created by the beats of the heart, each contraction, each relaxation, synced with each breath. Even as imperfect, as Jimin’s heart was, with the irregularity of the beats, it was still beautiful in its own way. That’s why Yoongi decided to become a cardiologist. He remembered learning about the cardiac system in high school, remembered its intricacies, and his fascination between its intrinsic and extrinsic functions. Without it, we would be reduced to nothing.

“What’s it like being a specialist then?” Jimin asks, out of curiosity, after the ECG. His next appointment is soon, but Jimin doesn’t seem to be in a rush to leave.

“Tiring,” Yoongi replies, strangely honest. “But it’s good to be able to help people.” It’s a cliche phrase he’s uttered many times.

“Says every doctor ever?” Jimin laughs.

“You’re right, but what am I supposed to say? I like the fat paycheck?”

Jimin laughs again. It’s an addictive sound. “ It’s okay I won’t judge.”

“Hey,” Yoongi pokes Jimin in the chest. “Don’t laugh too hard, it’s dangerous.”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “Oh shut up.” He stands up, and gives Yoongi a grin. “Thanks Sir Dr. Yoongi, I’ll see you next time.”

“Two weeks,” Yoongi replies. “And don’t over exert yourself too much. Don’t want you dying on me.”

Jimin laughs. “Of course, like an amazing doctor like you would let me die.” And Yoongi feels strangely warm, feeling a childhood familiarity that he didn’t know he missed.

“Duh, it’s my job.” Yoongi replies. Jimin’s only reply is another small laugh before he disappears, and it breathes life into the coldness of Yoongi’s clinic.

Yoongi turns his attention back to the results of the ECG, and data never lies. The room seems cold again. He sighs, and puts the results into Jimin’s folder as the receptionist’s voice sounds through his phone.

“Your 3:30pm appointment is here,”

‘“Just give me five minutes.” Yoongi says.

A malfunctioning heart, eyes bright with life and a boy much too young. None of it really made sense. But Yoongi wasn’t in this job to make sense of things, or be philosophical or sentimental. He was here to help, to fix, to decipher and to heal.

Jimin was born broken. Many people were.

That’s just life, I guess.

**Author's Note:**

> UM SO  
> im not studying biomed or med, only science so not everything is going to be super accurate ahah  
> thanks for reading!! hopefully will update soon : )


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